


feels like my world is you

by milkdaze (flowerstems)



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-09
Updated: 2016-03-09
Packaged: 2018-05-25 15:22:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6200437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flowerstems/pseuds/milkdaze
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Oh, you fill my lungs with sweetness, and you fill my head with you.</p>
            </blockquote>





	feels like my world is you

**Author's Note:**

> written for the [#kissyourgirl commentathon](http://femslashbb.livejournal.com/12935.html). also posted[ here.](http://femslashbb.livejournal.com/12935.html?thread=215431#t215431) title and summary from the paper kites’ bloom.

Allison opens her eyes and the first thing she sees is the cinnamon red of Lydia's hair, curling over the pillows and through the spaces between Allison's fingers like a dream. The curls tickle her chin and Allison wants to brush them away but she feels warm and dreamy twined around Lydia, morning sunlight warming her back, Lydia's breath warming her neck, so she tries to ignore it. A soft hum thrums through her chest, up her neck, and Allison rolls her head back just enough to see Lydia's smile.

"Morning sleepy head."

Lydia always manages to wake up first. Allison marvels at that even now. She marvels when Lydia stays up studying with her, stays up talking with her, stays up crying with her, stays up discussing _The Art of War_ in the dark of the forest night because they aren't afraid of the night or the moon anymore and Allison wants to get some target practice in. Whenever Allison feels unsure, insecure, Lydia is there with her hands sure and steadying on Allison's arms. We protect those who can't protect themselves. We protect. Slowly, Allison's aim realigns.

Lydia falls asleep on her a few times, odd moments they are, but when she's asleep on Allison's shoulder or her lap Allison tangles her fingers in Lydia's hair and fancies them strings of fate. Red and strong, looping endlessly around her fingers, curling soft and wispy at her fingertips. Let's stay together, all of us, like this.

Most times Allison falls asleep on Lydia and Lydia's always mildly annoyed but when Allison wakes up Lydia's fingers are running through her hair daintily, roots to tips, smile soft as her heart, eyelashes tiny fantasy wings against her cheeks. When she opens her eyes and sees Allison staring at her she says to stop making moony eyes, my legs have fallen asleep, now they've got pins and needles but Lydia never moves to make her get up.

Lydia lies awake beside Allison when she falls asleep and she lies awake in Allison’s arms as Allison slowly wakes up, yet again, always awake before Allison by five or ten minutes. Her arms are still wrapped around Allison's waist like ribbons and Allison doesn't have to worry and hope she's a good enough gift because Lydia always wakes up with her, slides up enough to be eye to eye with her, and kisses the tip of her nose with her pretty red mouth that can love and hate but always loves Allison.

They stay tangled warmly in the covers an extra ten minutes because the picture of the outside world framed by Allison's window is still, blue and green and asphalt stretching through and over their home like lines and boundaries and stories and lifetimes that have come and gone. The world won't mind if they are too busy relearning the lines and curves of each other, how they press together and push apart, to stumble out into the sunlight under the open sky later than they should because they've given bits and pieces of themselves to keep the lines and boundaries and stories and lifetimes of their home safe.

The world won't mind if they take ten, twenty, maybe thirty minutes finding scattered pieces of each other they had long forgotten about between the covers and the bedsheets and giving them to each other, running their fingers over the edges then piecing themselves back together, because they’ve earned this. They've earned their good night wishes and their good morning kisses, and they'll hold on to them with all that they are.


End file.
